


Third Rituals

by deborah_judge



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Bechdel Test Pass, F/M, Post-Canon, Romance, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-04
Updated: 2011-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-15 09:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deborah_judge/pseuds/deborah_judge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Minbar, nothing is as it once was.  Delenn and Lennier, post-Sleeping in Light.  Originally posted in 2004.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Series notes: If Lennier seems slightly out of character, that's because I've put him through rather a lot since 'Objects at Rest.' For my take on what happened to him, see my story 'The Candle and the Star'.
> 
> For Lennier as head of the Grey Council, see my fic 'Varieties of Repentance'.
> 
> This story should be comprehensible even if you haven't read either of those, however. This story is not consistent with my fic 'A Thousand Years.'
> 
> Other notes: In 'Points of Departure' Lennier says that the diminishment of Minbari souls began two thousand years ago. In 'War Without End', Delenn says it began a thousand years ago. This difference is never resolved in canon.
> 
> Lennier's diary is mentioned in 'Objects at Rest'. Since it bothered me more than anything else in that episode - which is saying a great deal - I felt obligated to include it here.

There is a fire in the heart of Minbar, a harsh black darkness that burns in its core a white light. The fire is darker than the emptiness where the galaxy ends, and the light is brighter than pain, and they meet at the finest edge. None can stand between them.

The Darkfire is a thing of legend, in the distant desert where none now go. They fear it, as they should. The Minbari say that it is a gift, brought in times before history by Valeria and the one who came with her. According to legend, one who stands in the burning light at the center of the dark will attain his greatest wish, and will die.

The Minbari remembered this teaching, and held it precious. They kept this lesson before them two thousand years ago, when they first began to build the Starfire Wheel.

*

Delenn knew it was time when she realized that she had forgotten how to pray. It had been over two years since John had left her, and although they never found his body, still he was gone. She had not prayed often during the years that they were together, but her touch on his body was also a prayer, as was the future they were making together. All is one, and we are one, and we are the Universe trying to understand itself, and to create itself anew. But John was no longer here, and Delenn had forgotten how to pray.

The book she had brought with her was one she had not opened in twenty years. What she had found in it, then, had shamed her. Now she did not fear shame, nor the knowledge that she had no right to what she held in her hands. It was Lennier's old diary, and Lennier had always known how to pray. Delenn would never forget the soft chant of his words as she huddled in her chrysalis, the gentle thread of his voice, keeping her strong, keeping her alive.

There was blood on the cover. From a training accident, no doubt, from Lennier's short time as a Ranger. Delenn touched the stain, brought her fingers to her lips, and began to turn the page.

The first words in the diary were about the Third Rituals of Minbar:

 _On Minbar, three is sacred. When there is two, there is always a third, even if hidden. And so it is in marriage, that when two are joined, there are the Third Rituals. For every destiny that is fulfilled, there is one that is not, and when the door closes on the marriage chamber there is always a Third who waits outside, who would willingly have wed one who now chooses another. He must watch, and guard, and pray for the one he loves and for her mate. They must pray for him as well, that he turn aside, and accept his fate, and find love and joy with another._

 _It is harsh, to be a Third, but it is something that most Minbari must face. There are some few who never taste of this. They are called the Fortunate, and are much envied, but not one has ever stood among the Grey._

 _The Third Rituals must be followed. The one who remains outside must renounce his love forever. The one he loves must send him away from her, and pray for him to find another. Her partner must honor the ritual. It is said that if any fail, doom will fall on all of them, and death or exile will surely follow._

Delenn could understand why this text was here. Lennier had doubtless copied it as a reproach to himself. Delenn felt it as an accusation against her. Yes, she had said the prayers connected to the Third Rituals, and she had no doubt that Lennier had done so as well. But words were only words, and she knew she had never been able to truly send him away. How could she? She had not been able to imagine life without him. And so exile had taken him. If not death. One more guilt, to add to the many she carried.

Many years ago, she had tried to send a message to Lennier, although she had no way of knowing if he had ever received it. "When you find what you seek," she had said, "remember that it is not you alone who requires it. It is needed also for me, and for our people." He had gone off to seek forgiveness, and there was so much forgiveness that she needed. Lennier's was not the least.

There was a comfort in the guilt. It was familiar, like home, like the embrace of an old husband.

"I join myself to the One," she said, speaking the morning prayer invocation, "who speaks in us, and through us, and Is the Universe seeking to understand Itself." And if we are the Universe, then the Universe is far from innocent. Delenn let this thought console her as she slipped into her morning meditations.

*

Barenn threw the papers on the table. "I can't believe this, Satai Shakth," she said. "A generation has gone by since Delenn's change. The population decline among the Minbari was supposed to stop. And here it is. Look at this."

Lennier looked at the papers, and then looked at his friend. Barenn had once been his mentor. She had found him on Centauri Prime, when he was close to death. Under her guidance, and that of her mate and fellow council member Nur, Lennier had become a Worker like them. They had even found him a new name, since he needed one so desperately. The Grey Council knew who and what he had been, but they called him Shakth of the Worker caste now. In time he had joined Barenn and Nur on the Council. In the past few years he had stood in the place of light in the center, the place that should have been Delenn's. He would hold it for her.

"If these are the figures that you have gathered it must be true," Lennier said. "It may take more time, for Delenn's actions to have their effect. Or perhaps there is something else that must be done. We know that which has been spoken of has come to pass. Delenn has said..."

"Does everything have to be about Delenn?" Nur muttered. "Does Delenn need to be the end of every story?" Barenn frowned. It was an old argument between them. "There were powers on Minbar before Valen, and there will be when Delenn is gone. As she just as well might be. Have we heard from her? Has she shown any interest in the workings of Minbar since she became President of the Alliance?"

"We have not sought her out," Lennier said. "We have not called on her to return."

"But she hasn't asked," said Nur.

"No," said Lennier. "She hasn't asked."

They went into the council chamber, and took their place in the circle of light. The other seven joined them: Dalidi and Burli of the Religious caste, Mazik and Shaka of the Warriors, Dulann, Katz and Zaca of the Workers. Lennier had heard all of Nur's words, and knew them to be true. Delenn's sacrifice had changed much, but not all. There was another sacrifice to be made, and he would make it.

Lennier took his place at the center of the circle. "We are students of the Teachers of Light," he said, "and we teach their truths. Order. Stability. Obedience. Justice. We serve the light, and take pride in its service. We know, now, that the Shadows also came to be our teachers. They taught us to ask: what do we want? And now I must ask you: do you want Minbar to grow, and to be strong, as it was in ancient days? The darkness takes a life for a life. What is given must be paid for. Lives are being taken from us. Souls. I believe that I know how to end this. I must have your blessing to do what I must do, and to speak in your name."

He knew that Delenn would simply have gone. But he was not Delenn, merely her acolyte, though he stood in a place that should have been hers. So he remained, and bowed, and waited for the answer of the Nine.

"We will go with you," said Dalidi of the Religious caste. "Did we say nothing when we swore to follow you into fire?"

"This is also following," said Nur, unexpectedly. "I trust him."

"So do I," said Barenn, with her usual broad smile.

"And I," said Dalidi, more reluctantly.

Mazik of the Warrior caste folded his muscular arms across his robe. "What you ask," he said, "these are not things a Warrior should want." Mazik had never liked it when Lennier spoke of Shadows. "But go," he concluded. "You speak for us now."

Nur stopped Lennier on his way out. "I know where you are going," she said. "Haven't you stopped trying to kill yourself yet?"

"You are the one who brought the news of the finding of the Darkfire," Lennier said. "And it is my place as the head of the Grey to face it. I have earned very little in my life, but I have earned the right to face the Darkfire."

"How?" asked Nur.

"By discovering its secret."

"Which is?"

He told her what he believed to be the truth of the origin of the Darkfire, and the cost of having turned away from it. "Two thousand years, it has been abandoned," he concluded. "Without it, we are diminished."

"How long have you known?" she asked.

Lennier considered. He remembered how, years ago, in what felt like another lifetime, he had told Sheridan and Ivanova the story of the decline in Minbari souls, beginning two thousand years ago. Not, like Delenn had said, with Valen's change a thousand years ago. He had tried to believe Delenn, but had never ceased to doubt. He had even written of this doubt, once, in his diary, to his shame, wondering how it could be that Delenn bearing human children could renew life among the Minbari.

"I have always suspected," Lennier admitted.

He knew now that for this reason he had come to stand among the Grey, to complete the work that Delenn had begun. He would go to the Darkfire in her place, and take her death, and earn her forgiveness.

It only seemed wrong, that he would never speak to her again.


	2. Wanting

Delenn's sparring partner that day was Elorri, a sweet round-faced girl of the Night Walkers clan. Delenn did not often spar with Warriors, and even this half-grown half-trained young woman could knock her down in just under three minutes. Still, even now that she was no longer Entil'zha it was important to keep up her training, and this sort of fight was a challenge she enjoyed.

Elorri was a girl of mixed heritage, Worker on her mother's side, Warrior on her father's. Her maternal grandmothers, Nur and Barenn, were old friends of Delenn's, although Delenn had seen them only rarely in recent years. Delenn remembered laughing with Nur about her daughter's upcoming marriage just under twenty years ago to a young man of the Night Walkers, saying that when she was young Minbari were content to marry within their caste.

"Or at least their species," Nur had said, looking pointedly at Delenn's hair.

Since childhood Elorri had named herself of the Night Walkers clan, with the Warrior's salute, hand on fist. She still refused to undergo the caste transfer rituals, saying that anyone who said she wasn't a Warrior wouldn't say it twice. As Elorri winded her for the fifth time that day, Delenn decided that she believed her.

When Delenn decided her old bones were just a little too bruised for another beating, she sat with Elorri on the grass in the courtyard. "Are you thinking of joining the Rangers?" Delenn asked.

"No," said Elorri. "I am going to join a War Cruiser, like my father, as soon as I come of age."

"Why?" asked Delenn.

Elorri flushed, suddenly remembering to whom she was speaking. "I admire the Rangers very much, I really do," she began, flustered.

"But?" Delenn waited for a moment for Elorri to stop squirming, and then touched her hand to show the question was not meant harshly.

Elorri took a deep breath. "But I love Minbar more than anything else. Minbar is my home. If I die in battle, I want it to be defending Minbar."

"The Universe is our home," Delenn said, gently.

"Yes, but," Elorri stammered, then stopped, then started again. "I can't love the Universe the way I love Minbar. Is that wrong?"

"I don't know," said Delenn. "Thirty-five years ago, we almost destroyed another planet, the planet of the humans, because they killed one of our leaders. We could not love them the way we loved our own. Was that wrong?"

"I think so," said Elorri. It was easy to say, since everyone thought so, now.

"Then will you think about joining the Rangers?"

"I will think about it. But I still think I want to be on a War Cruiser."

It was a strange conversation, and Delenn thought about it for a long time after Elorri had gone. She was used to the pride of the Warrior caste, but this was something else, something rarely heard on Minbar. This talk of wanting. It reminded her of Morden, and of Zha'ha'dum, and the darkness that had nearly destroyed all.

Once, Delenn had slain the gods. She had stood on the White Star by John's side and banished the Shadows and Vorlons from the Galaxy. No more would they serve dark or light. Had she made it inevitable, in that moment, that a young girl would sit in her garden and speak of wanting? Was Delenn unwilling to live in the world that she had created?

Delenn took out Lennier's old diary from her bag, and opened it, turning to the second page.

 _Three is sacred because three creates possibility. When there is two, there is only destiny. When there is three one must choose between the other two, or choose none, or choose not to choose._

The moment on the White Star had been a moment of three. The younger races had stood between the Shadows and the Vorlons, and had refused to choose between them. The Minbari had rejected their old alliance with the Vorlons, the humans had renounced their new association with the Shadows, and each had refused the temptation of believing that under the other it could be better.

But even the Shadows and Vorlons had asked Lorien to come with them beyond the Rim, so that they would not be alone.

Choose, or choose none, or choose not to choose. So gently, Lennier had seemed to accept it, as if her refusal to renounce him while choosing John had done him no harm. Delenn remembered the feel of the scar on his face under her fingers, and the brave despair in his eyes. I never told him that I loved him, Delenn thought, and then realized that she had never before even said it to herself.

There was water in her eyes, that she had not noticed before. She paused to wipe away the drops that had fallen on the page.

*

It was not the first time that Lennier had watched her. There was a time when he had come here often, unnoticed in his Worker's robes, to work in her garden. He had seen her with Sheridan, and he had come here, after Sheridan's death, to keep her silent company as she awaited the dawn. He watched her tears fall down her face and on to the page. He saw her fingers trace the lines in the book, and return to her lips.

Watching, there was something that he began to wonder, or perhaps guess, or perhaps understand. He had thought that he was being kind to her, by staying away. He had thought that it was a mercy, to go to the Darkfire without her knowledge. He had not thought that he would make her cry. He had not thought that she would ever cry for him.

Minbar is not what it was. Everything has changed, everything is different. The knowledge that Delenn could never love him was the foundation upon which Lennier had built his life. He knew this like the feel of stone in his hands. But water melts stone, and in the face of Delenn's tears his knowledge was nothing.

And nothing mattered. He belonged to her, as he always had, heart, soul, and body. Lennier covered his face with his hood, and stepped forward in the second impulsive act of his life.

*

It was strange, how many tears were in her, once she began to cry. She fell to her knees, as if to pray, but her tears mingled with the dried blood on the book she held clutched to her chest. When she heard footsteps in the grass she put down the book, and covered her face with her hands. Perhaps it was Susan, or Elorri returning for something she had left behind. Delenn did not want to be seen. She wanted to weep, as she had never wept since John's death. But instead of turning aside, the footsteps came closer, and suddenly there was a hand in her hair. A large hand, strong and soothing. Another hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"Look up, Delenn," he said, and it was a voice she knew like her own breath. The tears came faster now, as she felt the solidness of his presence, the sureness of his return, a return she had never really doubted. Still, she would not look up. She did not know what she feared, to see the love in his eyes or to see that it had gone. So she gripped on to the hand that lay on her shoulder, and turned her face to press it into his arm.

"Look up, Delenn," he said again, and his voice was gentle, and she knew then what she would find if she would turn her head, but still she could not.

And so Lennier knelt down, and lowered his face so it was below hers. Then he took her hands from her eyes, and pressed them to his chest.

Neither could speak for a long time. She studied his face, the new lines, the new scars, and the eyes that were exactly the same. She did not know if she were laughing or crying, but her hands were on his chest and his hands were clasped in hers and he was smiling.

"What became of you?" she asked at last.

"Nur and Barenn found me, on Centauri Prime, as you thought. They helped me change caste, to Worker, and to take a new name. I needed one, after," he hesitated, "after what I had done. I worked for Barenn for many years, as her aide. Now I work alongside her."

Delenn remembered when she had chosen the Grey Council, Barenn among them, and the future she had then imagined for Lennier. "You work alongside Barenn? You are among the Grey?"

Lennier gave a half-smile, embarrassed. "I appear to be the head of the Grey," he said. "They know who I was, and they honour me for your sake."

"They honour you because you are worthy of honour." She stood up, took his hand, and led him to the garden bench. They spoke for a long time, laughing, telling stories of the last twenty years. Her hand returned, often, to his face, reassuring her of his presence. He did not pull away, and smiled when she touched him.

"I need to ask," she said at last, as they sat close together. "Can you ever forgive me?"

He pulled his hand back from where it had fallen on her thigh. His face changed, and he looked as young as she remembered him. "Forgiveness?" he asked. "Is that what you want from me?"

Wanting. What do you want. A question that never used to be asked on Minbar. Lennier had asked it to her once, in a darkened alleyway in the depths of Babylon 5, although then she had pretended not to notice. If he was among the Grey, then he must have brought the question here, to Minbar. It was he who had taught it to Elorri. And now he asked it of her.

So many times she had sent this wanting question away, and now it was before her at last. But Lennier was with her as well, and that seemed so much more important. She touched him again, on his wrist, on his cheek, and finally let herself fully enjoy the feel of his skin under her touch, and the pure clear love in his eyes. Yes, she could live in this new world that they had created, and be glad of it.

"Let me tell you what I want," she said.


	3. The Darkfire

Dawn broke them apart, the first touch of the beginnings of light falling through the narrow window above the prayer alcove in which they lay. "I always watch the sunrise," Delenn said, shifting her head from its comfortable position just below Lennier's shoulder. He rolled his limbs away from where they had become entangled with hers to allow her to rise, and dress quickly, and go outside. A moment later he followed her.

Delenn sat on the garden bench, as she usually did in the mornings. Lennier could feel the silent presence beside her, next to her on the bench, where he wanted to be. He knew he had no place there. But last night had changed everything, and so he knelt down by her feet and placed his head against her knees. She breathed, relaxed, and one hand curled around the top ridge of his headbone.

"I still don't understand," Lennier said.

"You understood it better than I did, even then," Delenn said. "Or we each understood different pieces. What you wrote about threes."

"What did I write?"

"That three creates possibility, and allows us to choose our destiny." Delenn sighed. "It is a Shadow-truth, that brings confusion and chaos. But I am not sorry for it. I would only add that three creates mystery, and unknowing, because no two will ever look at a third alike." Delenn glanced briefly at the space beside her on the bench. "You know that John is still with me," she said.

Lennier hesitated, not knowing what to say, wondering again if he were out of place here. Then he knew. "Three is too sacred to be broken by death," he said. Delenn closed her hand around his headbone, and wrapped her other arm around him, pulling him to her.

"I wonder, sometimes, if John was taken beyond the Rim, and that is why we never found his body," Delenn said. "Taken by the Vorlons, or perhaps by Lorien. And then I wonder if Anna could have lived, survived the destruction of Zha'ha'dum, and if she went beyond the Rim with the Shadows she served. I wonder if they will find one another."

The sun rose over the garden wall, but Delenn's eyes were brighter than the sun reflected in them. She slid down off the bench to sit next to Lennier on the grass. "Did you know your face changes at night?" she asked.

She could not possibly have performed the Sleep Ritual, since Lennier was certain that he had not spent one moment in sleep as the night had passed. Still, sometimes in passion a true face is revealed. "What am I?" he said.

"There is a burning in you," she answered, "something that is almost anger. Like you would tear apart the Universe to find me, not caring what you would destroy. Lennier," she continued, "what happened to you, when you..."

"When I tried to kill your husband?"

"Is that what you did?"

"No," he admitted. "I didn't really think he would die. I didn't really think anything at all. All I knew was that whatever would happen if I did not open that door could not be worse than what would happen if I did."

"And what would have happened?"

"He would have bowed, and thanked me. You would have thanked me as well, and kissed him. You both would have known that you could have trusted me to serve you. And that is what I would have done, for the rest of my life."

"And you could not bear the thought of this."

"It was all I wanted, then. I have learned to want other things since. Delenn, I know that it will take a lifetime to atone for what I have done. I know that I have not yet fully done so, so I will not ask you to forgive. But tell me, does it frighten you, this other face?"

"Yes," she said. "I have seen it in myself, and it frightens me there as well. It is my soul, as you are my soul. I am glad that we will have time together, now."

The cold wind of the morning chilled Lennier's face and he pulled away. "I have done wrong by coming to you," he said. "Please forgive me. I did not intend for this to happen. It was only that I could not bear to go without seeing you again."

"Go?" she asked, her voice hardened.

"I am under oath to the Grey Council," Lennier said, "as I am under oath to you. Delenn, you taught me long ago to always be willing to give my life for the greater good. Even now," his voice shook, "even now, I don't know what else to do. I would be unworthy of you if I were unable to follow your teaching."

"And what does your oath to the Grey Council demand?"

Lennier wanted to lie to her, to protect her, but he found that he could not. Not now, not after she had chosen to trust the darkness in his face. "Delenn," he said, "what do you know of the Darkfire?"

*

It had been strange, the previous night. Delenn had said that she would tell Lennier what she wanted, but then she had found herself unable to speak. So she had kissed him, sudden and hard, surprising even herself. It had taken him a moment to respond, but when he had it was with all the passion of a Minbari seized by madness, crushing her to him, pressing her mouth open under his. Then he lifted her up, and carried her to her rooms, not to the bed but to the prayer alcove, as is the way of Minbari Religious. He pulled back once he lay her down. "Are you certain?" he asked, with a shake in his voice at the effort of speaking the words. In response she simply reached for him.

They did not speak as they undressed each other, or as they explored each other, finding ways for their now-alien bodies to join. In the end they pressed together, as if they could crush twenty years between them, until she shook, and called his name, and fell, relaxed, in his arms.

They tried to sleep, after, in the angled bed, but had stayed awake all night, talking, touching and staring at one another. Towards dawn they returned to the prayer alcove, this time with the proper meditations and prayers to draw out the joining, enhance it, and make it part of something greater. It had all seemed so simple, and so obviously correct. Even the sudden moment of fury in Lennier's face was right, and she wondered if he saw something like it in her own.

Delenn wondered if the time would ever come when she could answer the wanting question in words. She had not been able to in the night, although she supposed her actions had been answer enough.

And now Lennier was telling her about the Darkfire, and why he had to go.

"I had believed it was only a legend," she said.

"Nur found it, in her work in the desert. Blacker than the emptiness between stars..."

"And within, a brightness beyond imagining." She knew the stories, of the building of the Starfire Wheel and what had inspired it.

"We watched the Vorlons, Delenn, and the Shadows. We know what they are, and what they teach. What would they create, together, if they were to bring us a gift? A place of darkness and light, in which the light can also destroy. A place of questions, and knowledge, in which the one is sacrificed to the greater good. A place like the Starfire Wheel, in whose image the Grey Council chamber was made.

"I believe the legends are true," Lennier continued. " The Darkfire exists, on which the Starfire was modeled, long ago, long before Valen. I believe that it was of joint Shadow and Vorlon creation, forged in a brief interval between battles, when for a short time they believed that they could guide the galaxy together."

"And you believe that this has something to do with the diminishment of Minbari souls, which you believe began two thousand years ago."

"We turned from the Darkfire," Lennier said. "Without it we have lost our strength."

Delenn had known that he believed this, that there was a cause other than Valen for the loss of Minbari souls. She had read it in his diary, twenty years ago. 'If the diminishment of souls began a thousand years ago,' he had written, 'how will reversing this act undo it? How will bearing human children in a Minbari womb stop this diminishment, rather than add to it?'

"You know that I cannot agree with what you are saying," she said.

"I know," he said, with a wrench in his voice. "But still I must go."

"And what will you do, once you are there?"

"Legend teaches that the one who enters the Darkfire must answer two questions. If the Darkfire was brought by the Shadows and Vorlons, then I believe that we finally know what these questions must be. If the Darkfire is the heart of Minbar, then answering these questions in the face of the Darkfire should cause our souls to begin to return."

"And you intend to do this."

"Yes," he said. "You see, Delenn, it has to be me. I stand in the center of the circle of nine, in the circle that reminds us of the Starfire, in the circle that reminds us of the Darkfire. It is my place. And, Delenn," his voice caught, "it will give me, finally, a chance to atone."

To atone for a crime for which he had long ago been forgiven. But that would not matter to him, as it had not mattered to her. "Fine," she said. "When do we set out?"

"Delenn," he said, "it is my place to do this."

"I do not recall your ever leaving me in the face of danger. I do not know why you would expect that this is something that I would do."

"Because you are the President of the Alliance."

"I am your friend, Lennier." She held his gaze until he smiled, and touched his fingers to hers.

"Friend," he said.


	4. Life from Death

The Darkfire burned in a narrow valley in the desert, a place where light is already dim. A simple circle of darkness, with an even simpler bright circle inside it. No one watched it. The valley was abandoned, with no life or growth. There would be no witnesses to what would transpire here.

It was so different, Delenn reflected, from when she had gone to the Starfire Wheel, before all of Minbar. Then, the ancient ritual had been set, and the outcome had been certain, or at least she had believed it to be. Here, before a far more ancient ritual, there was only uncertainty. Delenn could still not believe that this was necessary at all. But Lennier was certain, and he had followed her certainty so many times, against all reason and tradition.

"Delenn." Lennier spoke her name as if it were a prayer, as if it were the most fervent prayer of his life. Then, before she could speak, he turned away from her and stepped into the circle.

*

The darkness was cool, seductive, caressing. "What do you want?" it asked. Lennier felt the memory, Delenn's body wrapped around him, her hands on his face, and it took all his focus to keep from gasping. All that is desired. As simple as turning back. And what more had he wanted, all his life?

He wanted her. He still wanted her, forever. To be her partner in all the years of life that remained them. To love her, openly, will all the devotion in his heart. Lennier felt the familiar ache in his heart, his body, his loins, his hands, his soul, every part of his being that craved only to serve the one he loved.

Lennier knew this ache. He had lived with it for a long time, and not even the force of Shadows could make it more intense than it had always been. He had faced this longing before, and knew that there was another answer. The greatest longing of every soul is to do good in the world, he thought, and stepped forward into the light.

"Who are you?" the light demanded, in a voice that allowed no mercy. Would-be murderer. Would-be adulterer. Bearer of hatred in your heart. The light was too bright to avoid seeing exactly what it illuminated. Breaker of vows. Friend of Shadows. Speaker of false evidence. Destroyer of Centauri Prime. Betrayer of the Anla'shok.

It was hard not to bend under the fury of the light and the answers it demanded. The one who turned away from John Sheridan, leaving him to die. The one who made a vow to Delenn to stay with her, always, and then broke it, fleeing. The one who let unspoken desire fester in his heart until it made him, for a moment, something that he was not. The maker of chaos in the first moments of the new order. The legacy of Shadows.

All these words were true. Lennier had heard them, often, in his own voice. They are what I am, he thought. But they are not all that I am.

Standing at last between the darkness and the light, Lennier spoke the words that he had prepared:

"I am the leader of the Grey Council, and I speak in the name of all of Minbar. I want the greatness of Minbari souls to be renewed."

Then the light pressed down on him, testing him, until all conscious thought was gone.

*

Delenn could see the struggle that took place inside the Darkfire, and hear the words Lennier spoke. She could not doubt that they were correct, if what he believed was true. The third principle of sentient life is its capacity for self-sacrifice. Only from self-sacrifice can greatness follow. Delenn knew this as well as anyone.

She had allowed herself to fantasize that Lennier had some secret plan for facing the Darkfire. Now it was clear that he had only planned, from the beginning, to face it in the ancient way: to give himself to the fire, and to die. Always self-sacrificing. It was the only way he had ever known how to be. This was the correct answer, for Minbar, and for Lennier as well.

And yet. And yet. There must be another answer.

Light and dark, desire and destiny. Delenn had lost John to destiny, to the fate that had brought him to her and then taken him beyond, to another place. Lennier had never been predestined for her. She had always known this. But then how could destiny take him away?

Light and dark, Vorlons and Shadows. Delenn had thought she had banished them, but their legacy was still here, at the heart of Minbar. Three creates possibility. What if there were a third term here to create possibility, to make things other than they were?

Delenn felt something rise in her, something that she had felt only once before in her life. Of course there is, she thought. There's us. She whispered a prayer to Valen, and took her place in the circle.

The darkness was soft, gentle, welcoming. "All that is desired," it whispered. "Speak, and we will give. Any hope, any gift, only desire it of us." Behind the voice was ice-cold hardness, the seduction of death.

It was an easy temptation for Delenn. She had sent away Shadows before. She took the next step, and felt the brightness hit her, white-hot and angry. "Who are you?" Delenn could hear Sebastian's voice, trying her, searching for an answer she did not know how to give.

She knew now that any answer would have been false. There is no one essence that can explain all our actions, all our destiny. Only choices that we make that shape who we are.

Lennier knelt beside her, bent by the pain of the light that was taking his life, testing him, demanding to know if he would hold true to the being and desire that he had stated until death claimed him. She intended to make certain that he would not. "Go", he managed to whisper. She took his hands, to reassure herself more than anything, and turned her face to the darkness and the light. "I want a long life, for myself and for Lennier." she said. "I am the mother of Lennier's child."

*

He heard her words, from the place where the pain was so great he had almost forgotten his name, and the pain of knowing he was abandoning her yet again was worse than the torment from the light. 'I am...' he thought, and then realized that he could think no more. 'What I said before is true,' he forced into his mind.

In the distance, far away, he imagined he could hear words in a great voice. "Your wish will be granted."

Then, everything tore apart.

*

The light shattered, a thousand short screams of brightness mingling with the dark. The dark seemed to break as well to join with the light, not to become grey, but to form patterns, dark and light together on the desert earth. The voices were still, as if pausing before beginning the next great question.

Lennier huddled on the ground, gasping but alive. Delenn could not help but remember the broken White Star so many years ago, the last time they had faced death together, and she kissed him, quickly, to take away the memory. "Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Not any more," he said with a confused smile. "What you said, about a child..." he began.

"A simple chronological problem," she said. "Nothing that would unduly disturb the Shadows and the Vorlons. Besides," she added, "I needed to get your attention."

He laughed, and she smiled to hear his weakness fading. "I would say that you shouldn't have," he said, "but it seems to have worked. Or at least I think it did. It seemed as if the Darkfire granted my wish, as the light changed. But how did you know..."

"How to break the Darkfire?"

"It isn't broken," he said. "Look." He held out his hand so that the patterned light would reflect on it. Light fell in the center of darkness, darkness in the center of light. Delenn could feel the same patterns on her face, on the back of her neck, tiny bursts of heat and cold flowing over her that she had forgotten to notice since they gave no pain. She could not explain this, so she spoke what she now finally did understand.

"You explained it to me," she said. "The Darkfire is the teaching of the Shadows and Vorlons. Between them, they can give almost anything. Power. Riches. Wisdom. Goodness. Strength. Belief. It is only life that they cannot give.

"They demand life, each of them. The Vorlons ask that we give our lives for the greater good. The Shadows offer us the opportunity to give our lives for what we desire. But what if life itself is what we desire? What if we see in ourselves the possibility for its creation? In that case, the Shadows and the Vorlons have nothing to teach us. Either that, or they reject us as unworthy of their teaching. And at the moment, I find that I do not very much care which."

"Or," Lennier said, "they remain, and must find methods of teaching that do not require our destruction." As Delenn felt the play of light and dark on her body she realized that he could be correct. Once Delenn had believed that she had sent away the gods, and that any further magic in the Universe must be of her own creation. If what Lennier said was true, and if the Darkfire was not truly broken, then there were possibilities in the Universe beyond what Delenn could begin to imagine.

"One last question," Lennier said. "Is it really possible that we could have a child, even now, after you have become what you are?"

She took his hands and placed them on her belly. Not that he would feel anything, but it was good to have his hands on her. Two parents and a child: the most primordial three of all.

"Faith manages," she said.

*

In the Grey Council chambers, Nur paced through the spirals of light and dark that had replaced the stark patterns on the floor. So the Darkfire had broken, or changed. Nur was still uncertain if she had acted correctly in telling the Grey Council that she had found it. But it had seemed only right. She had found it while doing weapons testing in the desert, thirty-five years ago, when she had taken her team to the uninhabited wastes to work on the weapons that she had designed for the utter destruction of Earth.

The Earth/Minbari war had been over for many years, and Nur's crimes were well in the past. Since the war she had built nothing but homes. Still, at night she dreamed of a charred planet, and ten billion screams, and silence. There was no forgiveness for this, and none could be asked. When Nur had found the Darkfire, she had hoped that it would bring renewal, life from death. "The hand that breaks is the hand that fixes," was a saying among the Workers. Nur hoped her aging hands would stay strong for a while. There was much fixing left to be done.

Barenn entered the chamber, and joined Nur in her pacing. "If Satai Shakth does not return," she asked, "will you take his place?"

"I believe he will return," said Nur. In fact she had received a message saying that he would, but she did not want to relay it yet. She needed a few more moments alone with everything he had said, everything she still needed to understand. "It is possible that Delenn will also return, and take her place among us as well."

"That would be wonderful," Barenn breathed.

In the center of the room the triluminary lay resolutely dark. Nur glared at it, as if staring it in the eye. "Not every story has to be about Valen," she said.

*****

Epilogue

 

 

Josif knew he was an unusual child. His parents were unusual. His father was a Worker who had once been Religious, and his mother was very famous and had hair, just like he did, and sometimes his parents would go to secret meetings that Josif wasn't supposed to know about. And then there was his much older brother, who also had hair and was with the Rangers. Physically, Josif knew he was just a little bit weaker. His teachers had given him some trouble at first, for being slower than his friends, but then his mother had said a few words to the teachers and everything had been fine. In the evenings Josif's father would meditate with him, or practice sparring, or teach him to carve a bird from a stone.

Josif had heard the story of why he was different. They said his father had gone to a distant planet, to a place where they had more children than they needed and some they couldn't care for, and brought him home. Josif wasn't sure he believed it, though. He knew he was Minbari, just as much as any of his friends at Temple. He was Minbari, and his soul was Minbari, and no differences could make him anything else.

Sometimes Josif would get up early in the morning, and his mother would be in the garden watching the dawn, and his father would sit at a distance watching her. "What's she doing?" Josif would ask his father.

"Remembering," he would say. "Let's remember with her." And Josif would think of good things to remember, like walking with his friends in the mountains near Tuzanor at sunset.

And sometimes Josif's parents would fight, just like everyone else's. Mother would bang her fists on the table, and Father would bow low and call her Satai, which would either make her laugh or get angry. But after they finished fighting they would sit together, and she would put her head on his shoulder. "It's alright," she would say. "Not every story has to be about me."

*

 _...And there are those who do not fear the Third Rituals and their warning, and refuse to renounce and to choose. They scorn the talk of exile and death, for what other fate awaits us all?_

 _For the Workers believe that what we desire we may build. And the Religious teach that in exile we may repent, and become greater than what we are. And the Warriors say that when we die we may be born again, into a new and better incarnation._

 

The End

**Author's Note:**

> If you are curious about my thoughts in writing this story, I wrote a DVD commentary to it [here](http://deborah-judge.livejournal.com/123256.html).


End file.
